the_debt_of_time

"Yes, but there is a difference between one who has been born into the House of
Godric Gryffindor and one who has chosen it, wouldn't you say?" Dorea inquired politely.
"Charlus and James, bless them, such sweet little lions. All bravery and nerve, but very
reckless and illogical. Do you honestly think my Mia an illogical creature?"
"No." Sirius shook his head.
Reckless, sure. It had been Mia who had threatened Bellatrix to her face. It had been
Mia who had stormed into the Forbidden Forest with a plan to take down the craziest and
most vicious werewolf known. Illogical? No. If anything, Mia thought absolutely everything
through to the last detail, which made him nervous considering what had happened last
night.
"She said the Sorting Hat almost put her in Slytherin."
"Or perhaps Ravenclaw, in another life. Mia is a smart girl who understands that
within each of us reside the qualities from all four Houses. You, for instance, hold the
intelligence of a Ravenclaw, the kindness of a Hufflepuff, the resourcefulness of a Slytherin,
but it is your courage and daring that define you as a Gryffindor, Sirius."
While he liked to boast about himself often, he had a difficult time accepting praise
when it came in the form of genuine appreciation or observation. "And Mia?"
"Wiser than Rowena Ravenclaw herself, as far as I'm concerned, though I may be
just a boastful mother," Dorea said proudly, and Sirius frowned. All Walburga had ever
told him was how much of a worthless screw-up he was. "Mia is fair and hardworking as
Hufflepuffs are known to be, but she is also cunning and clever, and somehow she has
found a beautiful balance between the bravery of a Gryffindor and the self-preservation of
a Slytherin. That means she keeps secrets. That means she lies."
"Do you know what she's hiding?" Sirius asked bluntly.
"Of course. I can be very resourceful when I need to be. Can you trust me to tell
you that the secrets she keeps are not because of any malice or ill intent she holds for you?"
"I don't care if she has ill intent for me," he said with a growl. "I'm worried about
her."
He fidgeted, trying to come up with the right words to explain his concern.
Unfortunately, he was never quite good at formulating the right words or timing them
appropriately.